It's been a long time since the last post, mainly because I've been looking at the shelf full of old Playbills that I have to go through in order to remember the many, many plays I've seen in New York. But there are a few items to write about before I have to do that.
When I was at Penn in the early 1970s, there was one theater group (Penn Players) and no theater department. But at the Annenberg School of Communications (which was a graduate school only, I believe) there was one course, Theater Lab, taught by Ilona Gerbner, wife of the Annenberg School's dean. She was a Hungarian actress who had met and married George Gerbner and come to the U.S. with him. Their son was a Penn student, and my roommate Charlotte dated him for a while.
I took Theater Lab during my last year at Penn. It was a two-semester course, I think, and the small group that took the class together became pretty close. I recall working on a production of "The Little Foxes," and I remember directing a play by Leonard Melfi. Along with Israel Horovitz and Charles Mee, Melfi was the type of then-New Wave playwright we were interested in. Ilona was a good teacher, and I got excited about doing theater by taking that class.
I had tried out for Penn Players as a freshman but since I didn't get cast the first time, I never went back--pretty typical for me at that time. But I did have an English professor, Enoch Brater, who taught several dramatic literature courses, all of which I took. He was a good teacher, Harvard-educated, and not stuffy at all. We became fairly friendly, and when I declared myself an English major, I chose him as my advisor. He dated and married a student, a friend of my friend Jane Savitt. That was something you could do in those days.
When he came up for tenure, he asked me to write a statement supporting him, which I gladly did, but he didn't make it. There was another young assistant professor in the department, Deirdre Bair, who had taken it upon herself to contact Beckett and ask if she could travel to France and hang out with him for a while, and he said okay, and she got a terrific book out of that. So Brater's work looked a little anemic by comparison, I suppose. He ended up at the University of Michigan in the Comparative Literature department.
When I was in my last year at Penn I was trying to figure out what to do with myself, and for a while I thought I should go to law school. Brater wrote me a recommendation, but I didn't get into any of the schools I applied to. Because I was enjoying Theater Lab, I decided to apply to the master's program in theater at the University of Illinois, my state university. When I asked Brater for another recommendation for that, he made some comments about my being wishy-washy. He had known from an early age that he wanted to teach English at an Ivy League university, and he had pursued that with single-minded energy; I just wished I had that kind of clear goal in mind.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Gram
My grandmother was a big influence on my love of theater, and of all arts. She took me to my first musical, and to my first Broadway show, and watched me dance around to the music of many original cast albums. She took me to Europe on the Grand Tour when I was 14. She was a fun lady, a world traveler, and she'd shared a piano bench with Duke Ellington at Lake Shore Country Club. We have photos of her in glamorous formal gowns at sophisticated-looking parties. She was at the opening of the Union Square Cafe (owner Danny Meyer is the grandson of her neighbor Rosetta Harris), and likewise she saw "Hair" and "A Chorus Line" when they were obscure downtown productions. She was loving and interesting and cool!
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Reading Shakespeare
It was a rite of passage in my day to read some Shakespeare in high school. There was a sort of progression to it, though it doesn't make a lot of sense to me today. We started with "Julius Caesar" in sophomore year (and read Shaw's "Caesar and Cleopatra" as a companion piece). My teacher that year was Miss Blong, who about as inspiring as her name. I had a lot of trouble, not unsurprisingly, understanding the language. I remember reading pages over and over and still not understanding what I had read. I had Cliff's Notes, of course, which helped. I recall the Shaw being a huge relief because it was relatively easy to understand.
I think we had "Romeo and Juliet" as juniors--this was right around the time the Zeffirelli film came out, so we had a big field trip to see it. And that was illuminating, because the movie juiced the story up as a teen romance, and I could see that there was something beyond the struggle with the words on the page. And during senior year, with the formidable Eunice Borman as a teacher, we had "Macbeth". She was an old dragon who was great at what she did. For three years I, like all my classmates, had been taught the 3-3 paragraph, a formula for writing essays. It was much hated but absolutely required for all papers. And from Miss Borman I learned that though I was a good student and got good grades, I had never understood the 3-3 paragraph. She was unimpressed by my previous achievements, and she taught me the whole thing again from the beginning. This time I got it. It stood me in good stead through the rest of my academic career and beyond.
And by this time I was starting to be a thinking person. Though I was a smart kid, I don't think I was doing any independent thinking till I hit 17. Having Miss Borman and taking "Macbeth" apart was a big part of making that change for me. I remember that play and its characters and their motivations in a different way than I remember "Julius Caesar" and "Romeo and Juliet". I think Miss Borman was simply so challenging and so thorough as a teacher that she hammered my brain into some kind of adult shape so that I would be minimally prepared to face the world.
It's interesting to me that Shakespeare was the way they introduced kids of my era to the more challenging works of English literature. The plays are still used that way to a degree, but my kids didn't have a play a year, as we did. I'm sorry about that. I think it was a wonderful way to test myself against the best literature there is. (But then, I'm an English major.)
Through the years I didn't see a lot of Shakespeare plays until I came to Richmond, where the vibrant Richmond Shakespeare company does a fabulous summer outdoor festival in the courtyard of a genuine Tudor mansion (transported here in pieces). In recent years they have added a winter season, so I get to see Shakespeare year-round. The company works with minimal sets and focuses on the language, which makes it a true pleasure for me.
I think we had "Romeo and Juliet" as juniors--this was right around the time the Zeffirelli film came out, so we had a big field trip to see it. And that was illuminating, because the movie juiced the story up as a teen romance, and I could see that there was something beyond the struggle with the words on the page. And during senior year, with the formidable Eunice Borman as a teacher, we had "Macbeth". She was an old dragon who was great at what she did. For three years I, like all my classmates, had been taught the 3-3 paragraph, a formula for writing essays. It was much hated but absolutely required for all papers. And from Miss Borman I learned that though I was a good student and got good grades, I had never understood the 3-3 paragraph. She was unimpressed by my previous achievements, and she taught me the whole thing again from the beginning. This time I got it. It stood me in good stead through the rest of my academic career and beyond.
And by this time I was starting to be a thinking person. Though I was a smart kid, I don't think I was doing any independent thinking till I hit 17. Having Miss Borman and taking "Macbeth" apart was a big part of making that change for me. I remember that play and its characters and their motivations in a different way than I remember "Julius Caesar" and "Romeo and Juliet". I think Miss Borman was simply so challenging and so thorough as a teacher that she hammered my brain into some kind of adult shape so that I would be minimally prepared to face the world.
It's interesting to me that Shakespeare was the way they introduced kids of my era to the more challenging works of English literature. The plays are still used that way to a degree, but my kids didn't have a play a year, as we did. I'm sorry about that. I think it was a wonderful way to test myself against the best literature there is. (But then, I'm an English major.)
Through the years I didn't see a lot of Shakespeare plays until I came to Richmond, where the vibrant Richmond Shakespeare company does a fabulous summer outdoor festival in the courtyard of a genuine Tudor mansion (transported here in pieces). In recent years they have added a winter season, so I get to see Shakespeare year-round. The company works with minimal sets and focuses on the language, which makes it a true pleasure for me.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Summer Theater
There was a little summer theater for me, too--at Camp Birch Trail in Minong, Wisconsin, where I played one of the old ladies in a musical version of "Arsenic and Old Lace," and at the Cherubs program at Northwestern University. Our "Arsenic" was musicalized with parodies--"There's a Place for Us" from "West Side Story" became the closing song about Sunnyvale, the rest home where Abby and Martha would spend their last days.
I was 11 the first year I went to Birch Trail, and I made a friend there, Bibi Pasternak from Memphis, Tennessee, who told me about a strange movie she'd seen on late-night TV--"Little Shop of Horrors". Long before the Ashman-Menken version, my friend Judy Fell and I wrote our own "Little Shop" musical based on what Bibi had told us--a plant that eats blood. We presented the script to Bibi as a hostess gift when we went to visit her in Memphis in the winter.
When I eventually saw "Little Shop" in 1982, I was in the front row, and the giant plant scared the crap out of me by sliding practically onto my lap.
Cherubs was Northwestern's program for students between junior and senior years of high school in a variety of pursuits--drama, debate, journalism, music, dance. The campus was about 20 minutes south of my home (I would have been happy to go there for college if it weren't so close), and I wanted to go, but I thought the competition for the drama division would be too tough, so I applied in radio-TV-film. I had a great summer there, with great teachers; one was Dave Liroff, who went on to be general manager of WBGH in Boston, a big producer of PBS shows, and another was Lloyd Garver, who became a writer and producer on various TV shows. I saw several plays well performed by the drama division students that summer, and I particularly remember Claudia Catania, who went on to become an actress and producer.
I was 11 the first year I went to Birch Trail, and I made a friend there, Bibi Pasternak from Memphis, Tennessee, who told me about a strange movie she'd seen on late-night TV--"Little Shop of Horrors". Long before the Ashman-Menken version, my friend Judy Fell and I wrote our own "Little Shop" musical based on what Bibi had told us--a plant that eats blood. We presented the script to Bibi as a hostess gift when we went to visit her in Memphis in the winter.
When I eventually saw "Little Shop" in 1982, I was in the front row, and the giant plant scared the crap out of me by sliding practically onto my lap.
Cherubs was Northwestern's program for students between junior and senior years of high school in a variety of pursuits--drama, debate, journalism, music, dance. The campus was about 20 minutes south of my home (I would have been happy to go there for college if it weren't so close), and I wanted to go, but I thought the competition for the drama division would be too tough, so I applied in radio-TV-film. I had a great summer there, with great teachers; one was Dave Liroff, who went on to be general manager of WBGH in Boston, a big producer of PBS shows, and another was Lloyd Garver, who became a writer and producer on various TV shows. I saw several plays well performed by the drama division students that summer, and I particularly remember Claudia Catania, who went on to become an actress and producer.
Friday, January 16, 2009
High School Musicals
For about a year I've been listening to podcasts of "Working in the Theatre" from the American Theatre Wing (http://www.americantheatrewing.org/wit/). These are seminars that bring together various theater artists with a moderator, with the purpose of informing aspiring theater artists about how to get into the business and how the business works. This has been like a fabulous master class--and as I finish listening to the archives and get up to date, I'm thrilled to know that there are hundreds more individual interview podcasts in the Wing's Downstage Center series (http://www.americantheatrewing.org/downstagecenter/).
Among the many thought-provoking comments I've heard on the podcasts was one about musicals--that some of them live on vividly in the culture because they are produced in high schools. At Highland Park High School, during the years I was there, I saw "Oklahoma!", "My Fair Lady", "Brigadoon" and something else that I can't remember. (I could go up in the attic and look for my HPHS yearbooks, but it is 10 degrees here at the moment, so I refuse to do that!) Dozens of kids work on these shows, and hundreds of friends and family members come to watch the shows. People with big roles become (or became at my school, anyway) as important in the collective consciousness as quarterbacks and cheerleaders. My good friend Mike Tobin had important parts in a couple of those shows, and I remember them very well.
Most musicals make me cry at the drop of a hat anyway, but I am a particular sap for "Brigadoon," partly because of that high school exposure, and partly because of a summer youth theater production that was done in 1970, when I graduated from high school. I had had a boyfriend during my junior and senior years of high school. He was a college freshman when I was a senior, and by the end of that summer he had moved on. He had a little part in the summer "Brigadoon"--he played the bartender--and the emotion I felt about seeing him onstage is all wrapped up with my feelings about the show. He had taken me on a big date once into Chicago to see a touring production of "Man of La Mancha," and I can get all choked up about that, too.
But then, when I watch the film of "The King and I," I start crying at "Shall We Dance?", so don't go by me.
Among the many thought-provoking comments I've heard on the podcasts was one about musicals--that some of them live on vividly in the culture because they are produced in high schools. At Highland Park High School, during the years I was there, I saw "Oklahoma!", "My Fair Lady", "Brigadoon" and something else that I can't remember. (I could go up in the attic and look for my HPHS yearbooks, but it is 10 degrees here at the moment, so I refuse to do that!) Dozens of kids work on these shows, and hundreds of friends and family members come to watch the shows. People with big roles become (or became at my school, anyway) as important in the collective consciousness as quarterbacks and cheerleaders. My good friend Mike Tobin had important parts in a couple of those shows, and I remember them very well.
Most musicals make me cry at the drop of a hat anyway, but I am a particular sap for "Brigadoon," partly because of that high school exposure, and partly because of a summer youth theater production that was done in 1970, when I graduated from high school. I had had a boyfriend during my junior and senior years of high school. He was a college freshman when I was a senior, and by the end of that summer he had moved on. He had a little part in the summer "Brigadoon"--he played the bartender--and the emotion I felt about seeing him onstage is all wrapped up with my feelings about the show. He had taken me on a big date once into Chicago to see a touring production of "Man of La Mancha," and I can get all choked up about that, too.
But then, when I watch the film of "The King and I," I start crying at "Shall We Dance?", so don't go by me.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Acting
I need to add "Oliver!" and "Fiddler on the Roof" to my list of precious original cast albums. Still know all the lyrics. For a while we had a piano; I never had lessons, but I taught myself to play "Food, Glorious Food," and I could probably still play it.
I had a little bit of a performing thing going as a kid. I took some "drama" lessons, as they were called, at the community center in Winnetka, a couple towns south of Highland Park. It was a Saturday morning thing. We did monologues and scenes from plays like "The Glass Menagerie" and "The Importance of Being Earnest". I'm sure I was never any good, but I had a good time.
In fifth grade my teacher, Lloyd Schad, had the class put on a production of "Peter Pan". I don't recall if it was related to the 1954 musical. I played Wendy. I remember writing a big emotional song for myself and pitching it to Mr. Schad. (Still with those grandiosity needs!) I don't think it got into the show.
My friend Genie Kahn got a small group of us together in junior high to do "A Midsummer Night's Dream". We met and rehearsed in a library and eventually did a performance for children. I think I played Bottom.
In high school I tried out for some shows but didn't get cast. But when I was a senior I did get onto the "creative board" (that was what we called the writers) of the annual variety show at Highland Park High School, Student Stunts. It was a great experience, lots of fun. Our advisor was Barbara Greener, the dynamic drama teacher who's been credited by Gary Sinise (he was a couple years behind me at the school) with rescuing him from a life of thughood. My friend Genie Kahn was one of the directors, and Kathie Borowitz (now an actress and married to John Turturro) sang a song I wrote--it was about getting too hungry at school to wait for your lunch period.
I had a little bit of a performing thing going as a kid. I took some "drama" lessons, as they were called, at the community center in Winnetka, a couple towns south of Highland Park. It was a Saturday morning thing. We did monologues and scenes from plays like "The Glass Menagerie" and "The Importance of Being Earnest". I'm sure I was never any good, but I had a good time.
In fifth grade my teacher, Lloyd Schad, had the class put on a production of "Peter Pan". I don't recall if it was related to the 1954 musical. I played Wendy. I remember writing a big emotional song for myself and pitching it to Mr. Schad. (Still with those grandiosity needs!) I don't think it got into the show.
My friend Genie Kahn got a small group of us together in junior high to do "A Midsummer Night's Dream". We met and rehearsed in a library and eventually did a performance for children. I think I played Bottom.
In high school I tried out for some shows but didn't get cast. But when I was a senior I did get onto the "creative board" (that was what we called the writers) of the annual variety show at Highland Park High School, Student Stunts. It was a great experience, lots of fun. Our advisor was Barbara Greener, the dynamic drama teacher who's been credited by Gary Sinise (he was a couple years behind me at the school) with rescuing him from a life of thughood. My friend Genie Kahn was one of the directors, and Kathie Borowitz (now an actress and married to John Turturro) sang a song I wrote--it was about getting too hungry at school to wait for your lunch period.
Monday, January 12, 2009
On Tour
While I was in grade school I saw a couple musicals on tour--"Gypsy" and "Sound of Music," I think. I listened to those albums hundreds of times and learned all the songs by heart. I believe Florence Henderson played Fraulein Maria in Chicago, but I don't recall any other performers. I had other original cast albums--"Oliver," "West Side Story". I sometimes slept over at the home of my friend Susie Fisher, and we'd play those albums and dance around like mad.
My grandmother took me to the World's Fair in New York City in 1964--my first trip to Manhattan--and while we were there we saw "Funny Girl" with Barbra Streisand. A knockout, of course, and soon added to my album collection. I was 12, and Streisand was (and still is) just 10 years older.
But there was more than just musicals for me. At some point my dad started subscribing to the Goodman Theatre in Chicago, and he'd alternate taking Sally and me to see the plays. She got to see "The Salzburg Great Theatre of the World," which has become a family legend for its scope and impenetrability, and I got to see a fabulous production of "The Recruiting Officer," which had ingenious pop-up scenery that got its own applause. Because the Goodman has a wonderful website (www.goodmantheatre.org), I was able to look this up and verify that it really happened, in the 1968-69 season, when I was 16. The 1969-70 season looks familiar, too--I think I saw at least "The Man in the Glass Booth". And I think I saw "Oh What a Lovely War" in the 1967-68 season. But apparently memory fails me with "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead," which I thought I saw there as well during those years. It's not on the production history list. Must have been somewhere else. But that's the play, I think, that cracked theater open for me--it was fun and funny and really challenged the mind. My mind was just then getting ready for challenges--though a good student, I was kind of a dolt till I was about 16. It took that long for me to start thinking for myself.
Henley Street Theatre Company in Richmond is about to do an all-female production of "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern". I'm looking forward to it.
My grandmother took me to the World's Fair in New York City in 1964--my first trip to Manhattan--and while we were there we saw "Funny Girl" with Barbra Streisand. A knockout, of course, and soon added to my album collection. I was 12, and Streisand was (and still is) just 10 years older.
But there was more than just musicals for me. At some point my dad started subscribing to the Goodman Theatre in Chicago, and he'd alternate taking Sally and me to see the plays. She got to see "The Salzburg Great Theatre of the World," which has become a family legend for its scope and impenetrability, and I got to see a fabulous production of "The Recruiting Officer," which had ingenious pop-up scenery that got its own applause. Because the Goodman has a wonderful website (www.goodmantheatre.org), I was able to look this up and verify that it really happened, in the 1968-69 season, when I was 16. The 1969-70 season looks familiar, too--I think I saw at least "The Man in the Glass Booth". And I think I saw "Oh What a Lovely War" in the 1967-68 season. But apparently memory fails me with "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead," which I thought I saw there as well during those years. It's not on the production history list. Must have been somewhere else. But that's the play, I think, that cracked theater open for me--it was fun and funny and really challenged the mind. My mind was just then getting ready for challenges--though a good student, I was kind of a dolt till I was about 16. It took that long for me to start thinking for myself.
Henley Street Theatre Company in Richmond is about to do an all-female production of "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern". I'm looking forward to it.
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